


Horror of Possibility

by AreYouReady



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Coping, Garashir If You Squint, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Illness, Violence Is Graphic But Entirely Imaginary, Violent Intrusive Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8664289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouReady/pseuds/AreYouReady
Summary: Elim is not to be trusted with eating utensils.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TW for violent intrusive thoughts, in case you didn't catch that. This is written from experience. They're awful things.

“You know, Garak, I don’t think Sadara is supposed to be the hero of _The Thousand Letters,_ ” Doctor Bashir said. The good doctor had a somewhat obnoxious habit of waving his fork around as he spoke, and Garak had the compulsion to close his eyes each time it whipped back in his direction, for fear that whatever it held would fly off and hit him in the face.

“Oh?” Garak smiled, cutting his fish into smaller chunks. He watched Bashir’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed his mouthful too early. _He picked up the knife from his plate, delicate, between two fingers, and pressed the tip against Bashir’s left cheekbone. Blood welled from the point of contact, and the doctor gasped, frozen. He slip it up and right, pressing harder, pushing it into his eye socket-_

No. Elim pressed the claw of his left forefinger into the pad of the same thumb. Not hard enough for the recently sharpened claw to draw blood, only enough to ground himself. Bashir was talking, Elim had missed the beginning of his sentence.

“-but she actually hinders the quest of the true hero, Anbak, when she gets to the castle first.” Bashir was grinning triumphantly, sure he’d made a foolproof argument. Elim was a bit preoccupied trying to find a method of disposing of the knife that Bashir wouldn’t notice, and so took a moment to respond.

“Yours, my _dear_ doctor, is a common interpretation, but what you fail to recognize is that by hindering him, Sadara is inadvertently responsible for important character development on his part. Without that setback, he never would have learned the value of patience.” While speaking, Elim had successfully managed to quietly drop the knife beneath the table, safely out of reach.

-

“I think you’ve completely missed the point of _Macbeth,_ but I don’t have time to convince you now, I’ve got a shift in five minutes. Next week?” said Doctor Bashir.

“I look forward to it.” Elim fluttered his eyelashes. It was true, these lunches were a highpoint of his exile on this forsaken station.

Bashir stood up, and as the doctor towered over him, Elim instinctively grasped for his fork, noting each of the vulnerable, soft places on the human’s body. If he thrust the fork just below the ribcage when Bashir attacked…

Elim froze in place, holding his breath. He was glad that the doctor had to leave quickly, so he didn’t have to move again. His hand, curled in a fist around the fork, shook. Once Bashir was out of the replimat, Elim let out a long breath. Then he set about bending each tine of the fork back on itself.

-

This was perhaps the first time he had ever felt truly _insulted_ at one of these lunches. If Doctor Bashir thought he was _such_ an expert on Cardassian culture, he didn’t exactly need to keep attending these lunches, did he? His hands twitched toward the doctor’s plate, he could feel their intent to smash the thing. _He picked up a porcelain shard, drawing it across Julian’s throat-_

The plate was whole, as was Doctor Bashir’s throat. Elim clenched his hands into fists, and drew the traitorous creatures back to his sides, beneath the table. He breathed slowly.

“Actually, Doctor…”

-

“Garak, why do you always insist we eat with plastic cutlery and plates?” Julian asked, smiling as he did when he thought he had caught Elim out on something.

“It’s more energy efficient. Surely, Doctor, you know that it costs twice the energy to replicate metal that it takes for plastic, and the figures are nearly the same for ceramic,” Elim answered. He was very glad that that happened to be true, it had been a devil of a time finding some kind of excuse.

“You’ve never cared about efficiency before. I think you’re paranoid. I think you still think I might stab you with my steak knife.” Julian was grinning now, sure he was right. At least the good doctor could be trusted to invent his own excuses.

“Now, my dear Doctor Bashir, I don’t know how you could possibly come to the conclusion that a simple tailor such as I might have reason to fear _assassination_. It must be a far more dangerous profession on earth than it is on Cardassia.” Bashir could easily convince himself, but it never hurt to give him a push.


End file.
